Thread Thin Security


Twisted desires spin endlessly from our species,
Neither destination nor affixing important.
Like a mountain of miscreant spiders
Struck immobile by anomalous gluttony.

 
They neither advance or retreat,

Just feed.

Such a large portion of humanoid go-to mindset,
Where ravenous cravings, blind eye and mind alike,
Making feel-good choices,
But with carefree flinging of tinsel threads,
Foolishly trusting anchor will be found.

Such folly not even the meager independent spider would trust,
For it knows of direction,
Structure,
Symmetry,
And connecting,

As the always necessary focus to survive.

One might do well to gaze upon the patient arachnid,
Where lessons learned many centuries past
Continue to serve both shelter and nourishment well,
Their web of security coexisting with nature,
Giving little attention to man’s covetous-spangled weaving,
Thriving on its eight-legged-three-hundred-million-year-old wisdom,
Knowing full well man’s tinsel thread pursuits,
Will but wait out the loss of its glitter,
Collapse and become
Tomorrow’s dust,
Taking up residence beside yesterday’s other vanished species.